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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916235">Undying Honor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveGarbage/pseuds/SteveGarbage'>SteveGarbage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FEH Resplendent Hero shorts [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Heroes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Helheimr | Hel (Realm), Honor, Loyalty, Pride, Resplendent Hero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:08:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveGarbage/pseuds/SteveGarbage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story celebrating Eldigan's Resplendent Hero garb of Hel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FEH Resplendent Hero shorts [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Undying Honor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mystletainn sheared through degraded armor, rotten flesh and dried bone.</p><p>The blade hissed in delight as it cut through the foe, finding only air on the other side.</p><p>The red and black armor glowed in approval at the kill, feeling warm against his flesh as it was fed by the destruction.</p><p>The tattered cape fluttered behind him as he sheathed the Demon Blade and continued walking forward, leaving the trail of destroyed corpse warriors behind him.</p><p>Eldigan continued, not sure where he was headed but determined to move forward. So far, it had been nothing but desolate land and and never-lit sky, populated by nothing but dead plants and dead men and women. Some looked at him with hollow eyes as he passed, while others, the foolish ones, tried to raise weapons against him. He had left them broken and shattered in his wake.</p><p>He could feel a cold and darkness closing around him as he paced forward, ignoring as the dead woman came to his left side.</p><p>"You are mighty, Child of Hezul," Hel whispered in a voice that was cold and hissing and laden with dread.</p><p>Eldigan ignored the queen of the damned, his palm settling discreetly around the hilt of Mystletainn at his hip. As she strode alongside him, silent, he waited for his moment, quickly ripping the sword from its scabbard and swinging across his body at her.</p><p>The blade stopped, caught between skeletal fingers as if she was plucking a feather out of the air. Her frail form belied an immeasurable strength, so much so that Eldigan found himself unable to even budge the blade as she grasped it.</p><p>Hel examined the black-bladed sword, looking its razor edge up and down. "This blade has drunk upon the blood of many, of countless slain upon its edge. Do you feel it, Child of Hezul, the weight of the dead carried within it?"</p><p>Eldigan narrowed his eyes and held his grip on the sword, staying silent.</p><p>Hel waited, then opened her fingers and released her hold upon the blade. Eldigan pulled it back and resheathed it. Force would do him no good here. The queen of the damned had not come here to battle him, he knew. No, she wanted something more than his life, his death, his undeath.</p><p>"Where do you think you are headed, Child of Hezul, without reason, without purpose, without meaning?" Hel asked after treading alongside him for minutes in silence.</p><p>"I do not serve you," Eldigan said, cutting to the heart of her purpose.</p><p>"Of course. You serve Chagall," Hel said. "And it has brought you here."</p><p>"I serve Agustria," he corrected. "Then and forever, whatever the cost."</p><p>"And yet, you find yourself torn from your country, resigned to my realm and my reign," Hel said.</p><p>"For now," Eldigan said.</p><p>"Forever," Hel corrected, stamping out what bit of hope he might cling to.</p><p>Eldigan did not justify her with a change to his demeanor, instead continuing to walk, looking ahead at the endless desolation. "So be it."</p><p>They walked in silence. For seconds. For minutes. Then hours had passed, with Hel still in step beside him and Eldigan making progress to nowhere in the seemingly unendingly wide and barren land of the dead. It was then that Eldigan finally stopped, standing with his hand on the pommel of his sword at his side as he looked out across the vast emptiness.</p><p>"Are you prepared to serve me now, Child of Hezul?" Hel asked.</p><p>Elidgan couldn't be sure how long it had been since he arrived here. He wondered whether time had any meaning or sway in a place like the Realm of the Dead. There was no point in counting hours, days or years in a place where eternity was the only relevant measure of time.</p><p>Perhaps in time, the gravity of his circumstances would begin to wear him down. No doubt it would eventually take a toll on his mind, on his resolve, on his very sanity. Perhaps in time his physical form, such as it was in Hel, would begin to degrade as it had for the nameless, faceless soldiers of the dead he had mercilessly destroyed. Maybe one day, he would become some lumbering revenant carrying a black-bladed sword whose name was long-forgotten to the living world.</p><p>Hel might have claimed his life, but she could never claim his honor.</p><p>Since the first time he had lifted a sword, he had pledged to himself to uphold the highest ideals of knighthood, to live and die with honor, valor and chivalry. The war had tested him, prodded and stabbed that vow to himself and to a higher ideal.</p><p>He chose to stand for Agustria, even when doing so had not been easy. He had throw himself into conflict against his dearest friends and had even been forced to stare down his own sister on the battlefield. Lachesis' words had given him the final resolve to do what had needed to be done, to quit the field and confront even his king, his sworn liege, who had proven he served only his ambition and greed and not the good of his nation.</p><p>Chagall had called it betrayal and ordered his execution.</p><p>Eldigan went to the block without resistance. He had placed his head willingly upon the grim stone and closed his eyes as the executioner's blade struck his neck.</p><p>As he had fallen, Agustria had followed.</p><p>He was done serving power-hungry fools who served their own interests.</p><p>"No," he answered Hel, coldly, and began to walk again.</p><p>This time, Hel did not follow, letting him stride into the nothing.</p><p>His honor as a knight, would shield him, sustain him, now and forever.</p>
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